


Loss

by angellteeth



Series: Platovember [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Gen, hehe :), i genuinely dont know how to gauge how well i do on things, i hope it hurts, it counts, its 1944 i do believe :), its an au :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth
Summary: Stanford seems to be coping with grief rather well.
Series: Platovember [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999222
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	Loss

Stanford sat at his desk. He should be doing work. He knew he should be doing work.

Work that was incredibly important and demanded his full attention if he wanted to get anywhere in life.

He stared at the tabletop, covered in books, stacked on top of each other and propped up and overlapping.

What had he even intended to accomplish when he sat down? He couldn't even remember what he wanted to work on.

He checked the time.

It was 7:06 AM. He couldn't remember sleeping.

He really couldn't remember much of the past couple of weeks. Hadn't the funeral happened by now? He was barely sure. 

He'd always had a great memory, and a fine attention to detail for things he thought mattered, but even trying to drudge up what he'd done two hours ago was challenging.

He remembered the day he got the news fine though. It had just been a routine call, just to talk to his mother every now and again.

The news hit him like a truck.

A few days before he'd called, their mother had been informed that Stanley had died.

She may have tried to call him then, and he just hadn't picked up. He couldn't really remember the days leading up to the call anymore, either.

He didn't cry, when he found out.

For a while, he didn't feel anything more than shock.

And then he'd gotten angry. Angry that his brother would go an choose to join the army, angry that'd he somehow managed to _stay_ in the army, angry that he'd go and get himself killed, angry that someone would kill him.

Angry with himself for making sure the last time they saw each other was when he shut the curtains to ignore his brother getting thrown out.

But it was short-lived, it burned itself out like a candle and left him feeling hollow, like a hole was carved in his brain.

He couldn't bring himself to do anything. Talk to anyone, go to any classes, do anything for himself.

The only reason he'd eaten since the funeral was because of Fiddleford.

His roommate had been trying his best to help him, but all Stanford had wanted recently was to be left alone. He wasn't sure if it actually helped anything. It left him feeling a little less tired, at least.

He couldn't tell if he'd been sleeping. Maybe it was all he'd been doing.

It felt the same as being awake right then.

Staring at his books, the words blurring together until they were unrecognizable, everything started to build up and hit harder.

If getting the news was like a truck, this was like a train.

He'd never wanted this, he never wanted him _dead_ he just wanted a little _space_ , and his inaction had gotten him that space by _leaving his brother to die._ He'd give anything to fix that one little mistake. They didn't even have to be on speaking terms, Stan just had to be _alive._

That was all he wanted.

He just needed his brother _alive._

He just needed his brother _alive_ he was part of the reason that he _wasn't._

It all boiled up under his skin, tying his throat shut and weighing him down until he was hunched over his desk with his head between his elbows trying not the cry.

Men didn't cry.

Stanley certainly wouldn't want him to _cry_ over him.

He cried anyway.

He cried as quietly as he could with the straightest face he could pull, his lips pulled back in a snarl and breathing through clenched teeth so he wouldn't wheeze and hiccup.

The walls were paper thin, and someone could probably already hear him as is. He didn't need to make a show of it.

He cried until his head throbbed and his jaw ached and there were no more tears left to cry.

He checked the time. 9:57 AM. He couldn't even remember what time it had been last time he checked.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, he felt as empty as before.

**Author's Note:**

> someone in the discord server said "au where ford goes into the portal during 1952" and then someone else said "au where stan dies in we2 :)"  
> they did not take me saying I'd write about it well


End file.
